


Overblessed Matrimony

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [26]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Humor, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: The big day is approaching.  But how could anything go smoothly between a very creative and evil deprived demon, four high-on-sugar kids, and a well meaning but awfully clumsy angel ?
Relationships: Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale & Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 31
Kudos: 80





	1. The Nap

**Author's Note:**

> February ficlets #16  
> Prompt : "Oh yes, you're quite the keen observer of human customs, are you ?"
> 
> I am aiming at something very light and funny. But since we're talking about Anathema and Newt, and I know these two are basically writing their own history without my consent, I can't promise anything !!!

Crowley entered the shop, shrugged his coat off, and headed to the back room. He had felt restless for the last few days and knew it was high time to act on it.

“I think I’m going to nap for at least a week,” he declared matter-of-factly.

He instantly felt the angel’s stress level shoot up to “very concerned”, and his friend stopped eyeing suspiciously the lone customer who was lurking near the Wilde section, his attention entirely focussed on the demon.

“Is it the cold?” he asked, teacup disappearing into ether. “Do you feel tired? Can I help?”

“Whot? No! M’fine, angel ! Really, fine. Just want to sleep, is all.”

“Oh. Alright then. I will make sure no one bothers you. Maybe I should close the bookshop… the bell _is_ rather loud, I am afraid...”

Crowley opened his mouth to say that the bell wouldn’t bother him at all when his foggy mind remembered the angel hated to see customers enter his beloved shop.

“Yeah, that would be nice. But it’s ok, really, angel. Don’t want to bother you...”

“Oh, pish posh! This is no bother at all!”

 _That_ Crowley believed. Aziraphale aimed for the place he’d seen his customer last, and all but marched him out, blabbering something about a gas leak, it seemed.

“But I wanted to buy this book!” protested the poor man.

“I am _ever_ so sorry, but the bookshop is closed. Quite permanently. Have a nice day!”

Crowley smiled tiredly at the man’s offended expression. The angel looked at him and tutted. “Really, dear boy, you should have told me sooner. Look at you! Do you not want to use the bed, for once? It would certainly be comfier than that old couch...”

“Don’t speak badly of my friend, Ziraphale… I love this couch. T’s my couch,” yawned the demon, collapsing on said furniture with a groan.

“Oh, well… as you wish.”

The angel snapped his fingers downward and warm, soft blankets covered the demon while a white-flamed fire came to life in the fireplace. Crowley opened one eye. The blankets were black and red.

_Considerate idiot._

“Oy, you can’t do that. T’s too comfy. How am I supposed to be pissed at you? Can’t sleep if I’m not a little pissed.”

Aziraphale let out a long suffering sigh and changed the blankets to tartan. Crowley made a face.

“Ugh. That’s too much.”

“Deal with it,” answered the angel sternly, choosing a book on the back-room's shelf before exiting.

“Is this the invocation of demons book?” yawned his friend, not even opening one eye.

“It is. I am planning a party with all of Hell’s finest,” declared Aziraphale deadpan.

“Don’t put the music too loud,” mumbled his friend as he joined Morpheus’s arms.

Crowley yawned, unhinging his jaw, and slowly slithered to the floor. The room was warm and he could feel the miracle that was keeping the fire going. He yawned again, his hand reaching out to pat the coffee table.

No mug. He sat, stretched his arms and looked at the empty surface. No coffee. You just had to sleep for a few weeks to be forgotten, apparently, thought the demon in bad faith.

Scrubbing his eyes, he aimed for the door, knocking his shoulders twice on the way. Waking up never had been easy for him. Coffee would have helped, of course, but you couldn’t trust _someone_ to make you coffee when needed nowadays.

Mean angel.

“Oh, thank God you’re up!”

Crowley startled as his friend appeared right before him, wearing a costume he hadn’t seen in a long time. He squinted his eyes.

“Is that the Blitz outfit?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Now is not the time for silly questions. I tried to wake you up twice before. Come on, hurry up! It is about to start!”

“What’ you talkin’ about, you stupid angel?” grumbled the demon sleepily while his friend fussed with his rumpled jacket.

“Oh, you can not wear that, Crowley. You need to change, hurry up!”

The demon took a deep breath. “WHY, Aziraphale? What’s happening?” he snapped.

The angel tutted. “Really, my dear, there is no need to get angry. The wedding. Today is the children’s wedding.”

The demon blinked, horror invading him as his brain’s gears slowly started to work again. “How long did I sleep?”

Aziraphale huffed impatiently.

“Anathema and Newton’s, you silly creature! Now change, ceremony is about to begin. Clothes are very importany on human weddings.”

"Oh yes," retorted the demon dryly, "You're quite the keen observer of human customs, are you ?"

Aziraphale straightened his carefully arranged neckcloth. "It appears I am" he answered, trying to look confident.

“Do I have to enter a bloody _church_? Without a bloody coffee?”

The angel shook his head tiredly “Of course, they are _dying_ to marry into a church after everything that happened these last months. Will you stop speaking nonsense for a second and _change_? I have coffee waiting for you there.”

With a snap of his fingers, Crowley grudgingly changed into his own 1941 outfit. The angel chuckled.

“What? At least we match,” grumbled the demon defensively.

“You look very smart, dear boy. Now off we go.

This, thought Crowley, as he followed his friend, was not going to be a good day. He couldn’t even try to ruin that wedding…

He’ll have to find a way to act demonic without making his friends angry. Tough one. But he was a very inventive demon, and loved nothing more than a good challenge.


	2. Mean Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is NOT happy after a long nap.

Anathema was hearing voices getting close. She put the vase in the middle of the last table and smiled.

“Tadfield Assembly Room? Ugh, and I thought Falling was sinking low...”

“Joking about _this_ is not funny, Crowley.”

“It is if it’s me. I can make Fall jokes. I’m _Fallen_!”

“Oh for Heav… for God’s sake, _drink coffee_. You are obnoxious.”

“Thanks, angel.”

“This was _not_ a compliment!”

The witch turned with a wide smile.

“I thought white wedding dresses cut for six months pregnant women were considered tacky,” was the demon’s greeting as they reached the future bride.

She eyed him from head to toe with a serene smile. “And _I_ thought you just had some beauty sleep. Doesn’t show at all.”

“Oy! I’ve never been sexier. You just have no taste in men, is all.”

Aziraphale sighed, snapped his finger before handing a large cup of coffee to the demon and a tight smile to the bride. “I _did_ warn you, my dear. He is awfully mean after one of his long naps. Do not take it personally.”

She shrugged, corking an eyebrow in challenge. “I have some steam to release myself. don’t try me, demon.”

Crowley _grinned_.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I will leave you two to your niceties and check on the Them. They are way too quiet, it does not bode well.”

And with a last pointed look at Crowley that all but shouted “ _Behave_ ” he aimed for the other side of the room.

Strangely enough, the Them seemed subdued. They were talking in hushed tones, gathered around Brian.

“Is anything the matter, children?”

Four gasps answered him, and the boy hid something behind his back. Aziraphale squinted his eyes. “Can you show me that, Brian, dear?”

Adam, knowing that tone very well, elbowed his friend. “Show him,” he whispered.

It was a small bowl… full of sweets. The angel frowned in confusion.

“Why do you need to hide?”

“It’s supposed to be for later,” explained Wensley. “Anathema’s mother told us it was for dessert.”

“But dessert is _hours_ away!” wailed Brian with his best puppy eyes expression.

Aziraphale, master of said eyes, was not impressed. His frown deepened as he looked at the bowl, then at the kitchen.

“Oh, but that will never do… I am afraid I have to interfere, my dears.” He snapped his fingers, and the bowl tripled in volume and filled to the rim with candies.

“Now, out you go. Have fun. Everyone shall have fun today.”

“Are these chemical free?” asked Wensley dubiously.

Aziraphale looked at him blankly, and Adam felt the familiar push of a small miracle.

“They are,” assured the angel. The children ran to the door excitedly. Aziraphale heard a chuckle behind him.

“Saw you. Not very angelic nor responsible behaviour angel.”

He didn’t even turn around. “Depriving children of sweets. That was the real sin, if you ask me, my dear.”

“They’re gonna be sick with all that.”

“Oh, will you stop talking like a nanny. Of course they will not.”

Crowley shrugged. He felt a _little_ better after his coffee, and the candies wouldn’t really hurt the kids. Plus, seeing Aziraphale helping them defy authority was such a treat he had no desire to argue about it. He wondered if his friend had had enough foresight to predict the obvious sugar rush that would soon hit the four children, and was very eager to see that happen.

Aziraphale finally turned toward him, and pressed his lips together. “You should… find some evil to spread. Somewhere in Tadfield. You will _not_ ruin this day, my dear, am I making myself clear?”

The demon’s eyes flashed. “Crystal clear. Loud and clear, _Sir_.”

“Do you really think today is the right moment to fight, Crowley?”

“It’s always a right moment to fight, Aziraphale,” snarled the demon.

His friend watched his retreating back. This was… not very good, to be honest. Crowley was obviously evil deprived. But as long as he was angry at him, he wouldn’t bother anyone else… hopefully.

Aziraphale just had to give his friend a good idea. Something naughty to do, but nothing in relation to the wedding.

The angel started to plot evil.

* * *

The ceremony would take place in only half an hour, and Crowley already felt restless. Not the usual _“everyone is happy and I want to stab someone”_ restlessness he almost always felt at weddings. A different sort. Something was _strange_ , and it was not only this tickle in his fingers that asked him to _ruin it all._

He caught the angel’s eyes and tilted his head before entering the deserted kitchen. Aziraphale joined him immediately.

“Is something the matter, my dear?”

“Not sure. Something’s smells weird.”

The angel sniffed around.

“Not _really_. That was a bloody figure of speech, Aziraphale. something’s fishy.”

“I love fish,” murmured the angel, eyeing longingly the smoked salmon waiting for the wedding’s reception.

“Angel, _work_ with me here,” growled the demon, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“Sorry, old chap. What _is_ the matter exactly?”

“I have no bloody idea. Why do you think I asked for your help?” snapped Crowley, his patience dissolving.

Aziraphale made a face. “No need to be rude. I assumed you called me because we are a team, not only because you were stuck.”

“I’m not STUCK! I know what I’m doing!” yelled the demon, looming over his friend, teeth bared.

“And what is it exactly, pray tell?” answered Aziraphale, his eyes disturbingly _blue_ , not backing out an inch.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Both entities turned, one sheepishly, the other with a snarl.

“Oh, hello Deirdre. Nice day, hm? Gotta go.”

The Antichrist’s mother watched that dear Mr Crowley storm out of the room without a glance at his husband. Mr Aziraphale sighed.

“I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to pry...” assured the woman with wide eyes.

The fair man smiled and waved her concern away. “Oh, not to worry my dear. I will find something to… make it all better. Everything is fine. Absolutely tickety boo!”

And he hurried out, frowning.

 _Oh, dear me_ , thought Deirdre young, awfully worried. _What happened between them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't read the story where it happened:Deirdre Young is convinced Aziraphale and Crowley are married.  
> They are not^^
> 
> Sooooo to sum up :  
> Crowley is grumpy.  
> Aziraphale is plotting.  
> Deirdre is worried.


	3. R.P. Tyler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale tries his best to help his friend spread some evil away from the wedding party, and Deirdre Young decides to do something to help her son's godfather reconcile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been my greatest shame this last year.  
> Almost A YEAR since my last update. I just never seem to find a good idea for it. So today, I rolled up my sleeves and decided that if ideas didn't want to come to me, I was going to start writing WITHOUT THEM.  
> Guess what? It pissed them off and they arrived almost immediately.  
> Last chapter will be posted BEFORE next year. :D

Deirdre was calling her husband in an urgent whisper, beckoning him from the kitchen's door. “Arthur! _ARTHUR_!”

Mr. Young, talking with Anathema’s father and uncle, turned to her, unlit pipe in hand. “Hmm? What is it, Deirdre?”

One look at his fuming wife was enough for the man. Eighteen years of marriage were more than enough to know when something needed to be addressed _right now,_ _in private_. With a genial smile, he excused himself and headed to the kitchen.

“There is something wrong with Adam’s godfathers,” shot his wife as soon as the door closed behind him.

“Mr. Aziraphale and Crowley? What happened?” asked Arthur with slight alarm. He rather liked the two men. Especially Crowley, who was a vintage car enthusiast like him. They both had, he thought, a good influence on Adam. The boy was a little less prone to mischief since the two men had come back from whatever far away country they had been living for the first eleven year of his life.

Of course, the fact that Adam spent a week-end a month with them in London, and that the two men were always coming to Tadfield to spend an afternoon with him on the three other weeks was, perhaps, a way to explain the singular decrease in complaints from a certain R.P.Tyler.

“I don’t know, but they are fighting. They’re really angry at each other, Arthur, what can we  _ do _ ?”

Mr. Young shrugged. “Nothing. They’ll be fine. It’s not our business anyway.”

Deirdre glared. “They are our friends! We have to help them, Arthur!”

“I wouldn’t like someone poking their nose in our lives if we were fighting, and I don’t think they would either. They’ve been married longer than us two, they certainly know how to figure it out without help,” said her husband absent-mindedly, looking around in search of something to nibble.

“Don’t touch any of it, Arthur! We spent hours working on it yesterday, and you will wait until after the ceremony like everyone else!” snapped Deirdre, slipping him the mozzarella and onion bun she’d put aside for him when she’d been preparing the trays with Anathema and her mother*.

Patting his pockets to find his matchbox, he wandered away. Deirdre sighed. Of course her husband wouldn’t want to interfere. But who else could help her? Young Miss Device was getting married today, and she didn’t know anyone else being close to Adam’s “uncles”.

*Newt had been banned from the kitchen after half an hour, and had spent the rest of the day preparing the reception room by setting up the tables and chairs and handling “everything that wasn’t breakable”.

“I will have to take care of it myself,” she huffed, heading out in search of her son. Maybe Adam would have an idea of the reason behind the fight.

Of course, Arthur’s reasoning wasn’t wrong, and for anyone else she would gladly stand back and let things settle on their own.

But Mr. Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale were always so  _ blissfully _ happy together, constantly using pet names and doing little gestures for each other all day long, seeing them at odds was much more concerning than yelling and smashing dishes would be from any other couple.

She had to do something.

Squaring her shoulders, an unusual stern expression on her face, Deirdre Young started to look for the Antichrist.

* * *

Aziraphale didn’t have to think too long about a solution to his actual problem.

How to prevent an evil-starved demon from ruining their friend's wedding? By giving him someone else to focus on.

It has to be stated here that using a sentient being as bait to deflect demonic activities was  _ not _ angelic behaviour, and that Aziraphale would never even  _ start _ to entertain such an awful idea.

Mr. Tyler’s appearance at the entry of the assembly room had  _ nothing  _ to do with a miracle, and if the man still had his slippers on, then it was probably an oversight on his part.

The man’s eyes widened and he looked around confusedly for a second, before frowning sternly.

R.P.Tyler was a no-nonsense sort of man. Appearing two miles from home in the blink of an eye was impossible, therefore it did not happen, and R.P. Tyler had chosen to come here for a good reason.

It only took four and a half seconds for him to find said reason. And some more. Straightening up like an oversized rooster about to salute sunrise, he glared at the bride-to-be before marching straight to her, condemnation written on his every feature.

“Young lady!” he exclaimed, making several people turn to him in surprise. “What is the meaning of all this?  _ Black _ ribbons and tablecloths for a wedding? Is that a  _ pentagram _ ?*”

Anathema turned around. She wasn’t the kind to get bothered easily, and usually was ready to give as much as she got, but she hadn’t slept, wanted to throw up (she was going to find whoever said it disappeared after the first trimester and  _ strangle _ them) and had been dealing with her mother and uncle’s constant criticism for the last two days. And it was  _ her wedding day _ .

*It was. Newt had been very thorough in decorating, trying to find the most tacky witchy ideas possible to make his future wife laugh**. Anathema had taken one look at the result and dragged him to the nearest broom closet.

** Anathema’s mother, bless her soul,  _ was _ a handful. Newt’s betrothed was so tense he was afraid she would snap soon.

“I will not stay silent in face of such a mockery! You Americans can all pack up and get back to-”

“Hello, Sir,” interrupted a smooth voice in his ear.

R.P.Tyler froze on the spot. He knew that voice.

“What a pleasant surprise,” crooned Crowley, lowering his glasses to catch his eyes.

The man gasped, recognition hitting. “YOU! You were the one with the  _ car _ !”

The demon bared his teeth in what looked like a smile if you squinted a lot. “I am afraid a lot of people fit that description. Can you be more specific?”

R.P.Tyler snarled haughtily. Crowley felt begrudgingly impressed. It was a good snarl.

“I should have expected some hooligans to be invited! I told the city council we had to keep an eye on Jasmine cottage’s tenant, but did they listen to me?”

“I imagine they didn’t,” chuckled Crowley, who perfectly knew that Deirdre was an influential member of said council.*

*She was intelligent, practical, very good at debate, and made the best apple pie in a forty miles radius. The only reason she wasn’t Tadfield’s mayor was she never applied. She already had a part-time job and was raising two children, one of them an Antichrist, thank you very much.

“They certainly will now!” glowered R.P. “Pentagrams! In our community! This is not to be borne!”

“And that’s only the decoration,” said Crowley thoughtfully. “I bet the fireworks will be frowned upon, with us not asking for permission and all that. This city’s so stuffy...”

Mr. Tyler’s eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. Crowley watched in interest at a vein throbbing on his temple.

“FIREWORKS?” yelled the man.

Crowley shrugged casually, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, t’s just outside, in the field. It will be awesome, we took all the big ones in the store.”

“Lead me to it immediately! This is the last straw! This wedding will not take place if I have a say in it, mark my words!”

Face an angry red, R.P.Tyler headed out, shooting an imperious glare at Crowley.

Smiling, the demon followed lazily. He felt better already. Negative emotions were like a balm to his vile-deprived brain. 

He made a mental note of always having a Mr. Tyler at hand after one of his longish naps.

Near the entry, Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend follow the annoying human. Crowley had that telling glint in his eyes that always bode of some kind of Hell about to unleash onto someone. He nodded to himself, idly looking around to check on hypothetical rodents. He didn’t think Crowley would go so far as to enrol his personal army on their friend’s big day, but better safe than sorry.

Reassured, he turned back to his work, the kitchen knife gleaming in his hand as he sliced the oranges with smooth, rapid movements that belied a long practice at handling sharp, cutting objects.

No cocktail would be perfect without an orange slice. And this day  _ would _ be perfect, if he had any say in it.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting on last chapter already. My stupid brain is whispering to "add another chapter. Just one..." but I won't listen this time!  
> Anathema and Newt deserve to get married! They wanted a short engagement and I made them wait soooo long already.^^

**Author's Note:**

> Where is this all going?  
> Don't look at me ! I have NO idea !  
> They decided to get married yesterday night, I'm just... going with the flow here 😆


End file.
